


Signal To Noise

by alex_greene



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:36:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_greene/pseuds/alex_greene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Mythos story, a delve into the universe of H P Lovecraft, set in the year 2024 or thereabouts. A retired cop works on one last stubborn cold case, a missing girl. He uncovers horror and madness on the trail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Signal To Noise

'I love you, Mum.'

Caroline Dunn's voice issued from the French MP4 player through earbud headphones. Her little face stared at the camera.

Only five when they took this video. She'd be thirteen now. Her Mother loves her, which is why she hired me to find her.

'Sir?'

The conductor, hovering over me. Young, slim, sandy hair.

'Your ticket.'

'Oh,' I said. The tickets were in a transparent compartment in my wallet. Used to keep my warrant card there.

'Redfern's the next stop,' he said, returning the ticket.

Redfern Station. A leafy cutting between towns. A concrete platform either side of the track; ugly orange automated ticket machines, dark green benches strewn with crude graffiti. No shelters; just rectangular scars in the concrete where they used to stand, magnets for vandalism.

She was parked outside the station, dark blue Toyota Avensis, in the layby just down the way. Quiet lane, lined with trees. Lovely place.

I waved to her and took a step.

The car came at me from out of nowhere. I barely had time to register its presence before it bore straight down at me.

I was staring at an empty cigarette packet in the grass. For a moment I wondered what I was doing and where I was. Then I remembered. I got up, unsteadily. Footsteps approaching. Someone's arms helped me to my feet.

Cora Dunn.

I must have looked like an escapee from a lunatic asylum. It took a few seconds for me to realise she was saying something.

'Are you all right?'

'I ... I will be,' I said. 'After a pint. Or a whisky.'

Her local, the Rose and Frown, was nearby. We passed beneath the old pub sign – a rose lying atop a gilded coronet on a red velvet cushion.

Edna was behind the bar; the source of the “Frown” in the pub's nickname. Patrons at tables, sullenly nursing drinks, or slouched at the bar. Grim silence in the air like black smoke.

'I'll have a bitter.'

Cora smiled. Sunlight through the clouds.

We found a quiet snug and sat down together with our drinks. Cora was driving. Plain orange juice, tall glass.

Cora turned to look at me with those vivid eyes of hers. Same eyes as Caroline, concealing great pain.

'You've come to tell me you're giving up, haven't you? After all this time, I suppose it's to be expected.'

Cora had nailed it. I was here to tell her I was dropping the case. Lack of evidence. Eight years of chasing my own tail. I couldn't do this any more.

'I knew this day was coming,' Cora said. 'First, the press smeared me and Ken. Made it look like we were negligent. Called me a bad mother. Anything, but admit that the cops just stumbled around in the dark and let her abductor walk off with her.'

'You did clear your name, though.'

'Yeah, but too late for Ken and me,' Cora said. 'The divorce got finalised two months ago, you know,' she said, in a soft voice.

'I know,' I replied. 'I got your email.'

'I've been alone since that time ...' Her hand was resting on mine. She was looking into me with those eyes. I'd never heard her voice like this before.

Gently, I clasped her hand and stared into those eyes. What was she thinking about?

Her hand withdrew. 'You are giving up, though,' she said, rising from the chair.

'Here, someone's car's on fire!'

We turned to look. A man had burst into the pub, wild eyed, gesturing out the door at something in the yard.

'Call the fire brigade!' he yelled. 'Quick!'

Edna vanished into the back of the pub to make the call. Some of the punters were already calling the cops on mobile phones. I had a dread, sick feeling that I knew whose car this was. By the look on Cora's face, she had already worked it out.

Thick clouds of smoke were rising from the burning car outside. The smell was starting to permeate the pub. The drinkers were getting up off their seats and staggering towards the door. I fought through the crowd and pushed to the front, Cora a few steps behind me. Together, we stood with the crowd watching Cora's Toyota Avensis incinerate.

I looked at Cora. 'I'm not going to give up.'

The curt nod of acknowledgment from Cora, I expected. The embrace and passionate kiss, I didn't.

  
  


'Well, well, well, look who it is. DCI Crooner.'

Two uniforms were bearing down on me as I sat outside, nursing my pint. Their smiles didn't reach their eyes.

'Former Detective Chief Inspector, now retired,' I said. 'And the name's _Mister_ Monroe. Matthew Monroe.'

'I don't get it,' the other cop said. 'Why'd you call him “Crooner?”'

'Bru, it's an old name,' the first cop said. 'Matt Monroe. There was an old singer called Matt Munro, and ...' Bru's face remained stubbornly blank.

'Won't be long, now,' I said, helpfully. 'You'll find yourself saying “What are they teaching you these days?” and before you know it, you'll be sipping pints outside the Rose and Frown, watching firemen putting out a burning car and wondering where the hell your life's gone.'

The first cop, whom I knew as Toad – not his name, just called him that for his demeanour in the presence of authority – bristled for a moment. I watched the sly look as he thought of something nasty to say.

' _Mister_ Monroe,' Toad said, 'I have some questions.'

'I'll bet you do,' I replied. 'Me, too, only not about the same things, I guess.'

'What are you trying to say?'

'Nothing,' I replied. 'Ask away.'

'Why'd you quit the force?'

I shrugged. 'Got bored. My career lacked focus.'

'What are you doing out here today, in the Sticks?'

'Following an old, cold case,' I replied. 'Caroline Dunn, went missing eight years ago. I retired, still having never found her. The Met left me with the case notes, in case I do find something. Been following her ever since.'

'As a civilian.'

I fished around in my wallet, and produced a card which I proffered to Toad. He handed it over to Bru, who ran the blocky square matrix code on the side through a hand held machine. He handed the card back to Toad. 'Says he's got a license.'

'Earned my certification six months after retiring,' I replied. 'Licensed private inquiry agent.'

'Why aren't you tapping phones for the tabloids, then?' This one from Bru, a late attempt at sarcasm.

'They don't pay me enough,' I snapped off.

'Where were you when this arson took place?'

'Inside,' I replied, 'with Cora Dunn.' I looked at Toad. 'Neither of us saw it.'

Toad sneered again. 'She backs you up on this,' he said, 'but I know you, _Mister_ Monroe. You like to stir, which is why you were retired early. If you start stirring round here ...'

'Wouldn't dream of it,' I replied, coming to the end of my pint.

'It's so good to see you too, Toad.'

'That's _Sergeant_ Rogers to you, Mister Monroe -'

'Sergeant?' I asked. 'Thought it was Inspector. DI Rogers of the Met CID had a good ring to it.'

'Yeah,' said Bru. 'You never said why you got transferred here. I thought you'd got promoted from Constable.'

Toad's face was livid. He cast daggers with his eyes, both at me and at Bru. 'You ...,' he said, waggling a finger at me. 'Stay out of trouble!' He stormed off, Bru following him.

Cora emerged from the interior, followed by two other uniformed police officers, both of whom I recognised from my Met days. Constables Wayne Erskine and Melissa Jones. Good coppers. I knew them as beginners, just starting their careers a few months before my retirement. I nodded in their direction, acknowledging their warm nods in response.

'Who were those other two coppers?' Cora asked. 'Constable Erskine was curious. Nobody'd asked Sergeant Rogers to deal with this fire.'

I shrugged. 'You're a big name,' I suggested. 'Anything that happens to you is going to draw lots of attention.'

'Really?'

I nodded. 'Listen,' I said, 'I've got to make a call. I want you to stay here for a moment. I don't want anyone hearing me make this call.' I left Cora sitting at the picnic bench and wandered around the corner taking out my state of the art smartphone and reeling out the smartcloth screen interface.

'Frankie,' I said to the phone. The screen cleared. A pretty redhead stared at me from the smartcloth.

'Who is it?' she asked. 'Oh, you.'

'Nice to see you again, Frankie,' I replied. 'Listen, I want to know something. Do the locals still have one of those quasi-legal speed cameras set up on the corner of Dunsten Road, near the Rose and Frown pub in Redfern?'

Pause. Then Frankie nodded once, curtly. 'Don't let on it's still there,' she said in a stage whisper.

'Do me a favour,' I said. 'There was a car fire about an hour ago. About, oh, fifteen thirty hours.'

'Right.'

Also, about half an hour before, check to see for a speeding car near the Redfern Station entrance.' I looked around. Nobody about. 'I have a hunch,' I said, winking.

Frankie nodded. 'I'll email you,' she replied.

'Thanks,' I said. Voices approached. 'Gotta get.' The smartcloth screen blanked and rolled up. I turned. An elderly couple. I nodded and brushed past them.

I half expected Cora to have gone. But she was still there, sitting on the bench, smiling innocently.

'When's the bus due?' I asked.

'Quarter of an hour,' Cora replied. 'Think I'll have a pint, now, too. Mild. Not bitter.'

  
  


I awoke to birdsong. You don't hear birdsong in the Smoke. Unfamiliar bed, unfamiliar room, wind in the trees and birdsong.

The weather forecasters were saying that 2024's summer was going to be baking – and I could feel the early June sunlight warm on my exposed leg, sticking out from underneath the duvet as I always do when it's too warm to sleep.

I have often found myself waking up in strange beds; just never as good as this one. I've woken up in the driving seat of my car on stakeouts – not good; and of course I've woken up on the inside of a cell more than once these last few years. I've even woken up in a hospital bed, with my ex-wife leaning over me, wondering if she should finish the job next time.

Hearing the sigh next to me, sensing motion by my side, I turned to see Cora open her eyes and look at me.

'Good morning,' she whispered, sleepily.

'Oh,' I murmured. 'I shouldn't have done this.'

'What?'

'Sleeping with your clients,' I whispered. 'Unethical.'

'I'll bet they all say that,' Cora murmured, leaning in for another long kiss.

  
  


My phone rang at breakfast, my top of the range Hidari laptop and mobile phone on the wooden table in front of me in Cora's kitchen, the laptop's and mobile's miracle cloth screens unrolled and ready for input.

Cora, cooking fried egg, bacon and toast, looked shapeless in loose pink pyjamas, pink carpet slippers and a fluffy white dressing gown, tied about the middle. Her blonde hair was tousled. The crackling sound and the smell of the frying food permeated the rustic kitchen.

I picked up the phone. 'Monroe.'

'Hi, Boss.' It was Frankie.

'I'm not your Boss,' I replied.

'I got something. You want the data or not?'

'Fire away.'

I opened out the cloth magic screen. A couple of images appeared on the screen; I expanded them and took a good, long look at the fuzzy images.

'H'mm.' I held the smartphone over the laptop and gave it a shake. The pictures slid off the smartphone screen and onto the laptop, animated to appear as if they were tumbling like cards.

I checked my wristwatch: 07:45. Laying it down on the laptop screen, I copied the pictures into a folder in the 4Tb flash drive. Fishing in my pockets, I produced another 4Tb flash drive and synchronised its contents with my watch drive.

It's good to have backups.

'What are you doing?' Cora asked, sliding a plate across the table at me. I picked out an image and expanded it.

'This is the car that came at me, tried to run me down,' I said, swirling the image by a corner to turn it around so Cora could see it.

It was a slightly blurry picture of a burgundy Jaguar. I remembered the burgundy, the deep, throaty engine purr. I could see the driver. Arrogant blond lad, chisel jaw. One passenger; mystery blonde wearing shades.

'What about that one?' Cora asked.

I looked at the photo Cora was pointing at, and magnified it. Another speed camera picture of the Jaguar. The comparator image, a split second after the first one to compare speeds and to defeat the reflexes of speeding human drivers who might have just spotted the camera, not to mention to catch speeders who might actually be accelerating along the straight.

Being a fraction closer to the camera, while the faces were still blurry, I had better resolution to work with.

'Passenger looks like a girl,' Cora said. 'A teen.'

I almost didn't catch her voice. Too busy thinking.

'Let me run this through the demistifier,' I said, calling up an app. 'It scrubs away visual distortions people might use to blur their faces. We use this app to catch paedophiles.'

I dropped both pics into the app. I caught Cora staring at the screen. I hadn't seen this look in her eyes before.

'What is it?'

Cora was shaking, her face pallid. I touched her shoulder. She shrugged it off.

'What?' I asked. The swirling soup of my thoughts crystallised. I realised what she must be thinking. I called up the original comparator image and enlarged it, zooming in on the passenger.

A soft chime. The demistifier was ready. I put back the original comparator and called up the retouched images. The faces were much clearer. I zoomed in on the girl in the comparator image.

'It's her, isn't it?' Cora's voice had an edge to it.

'We can't be entirely sure, but …'

'Damn it, I _am_ sure,' Cora replied. 'That,' she said, jabbing her finger at the screen, 'is my Caroline.' She looked at me. 'She's alive.'

The phone rang. I picked it up. 'Not now!' I cried.

'Boss, shut down your system now!' It was Frankie. 'I've been viru zzzssh shshzh ...'

The line went dead. I reached for the off button, too late. The mobile phone lit up with a radiating spray of strange green symbols, glowing against an opaque black backdrop that spread out from the centre to obliterate the screen. A second later, the screen of my computer was similarly obliterated, filling with the green symbols.

I tried to move, but something about those spreading symbols seemed to infiltrate my brain. I could not move, think, or do anything. In a moment, the darkness had spread to my head.

Fade to black.

  
  


Hunger, always hunger, never ending famine, starving, need need needneed _needneedneed_ ...

A face moves in front of me. I know that face. I have been with that face. She is my mate. She is mine. She recognises me. We move together, shedding the skins we have to wear to keep warm, touching each other with our real skins, cold in the strange cave, food on the floor, too busy to feast, growling as passion for each other takes over our minds, hot body groaning passion, sudden pain as she rakes my back, I howl and touch her deeply, _needneedneedneedneed -_

  
  


I woke up slowly. Too slowly, as if I had been drugged.

'You were,' said a voice from my right. A familiar male voice.

'What, did – did I just say that aloud?'

'Yup.'

'Oh, Hell.' My eyes opened to blurriness. I was lying down somewhere. 'What happened?'

'Frankie warned us,' said the voice. 'Told us to come and get you. We found your laptop and cell both wiped clean. She was praying we weren't too late.'

'We almost were,' said a woman's voice, from my left. Again, familiar. 'When we got to you, it looked as if you and Cora had both been hit hard.'

'We had to sedate the two of you, or you'd have carried on rutting -'

'Shush! He doesn't have to know that!'

'I think he does,' said the voice, which I now recognised.

'Wayne? Melissa?' I tried to blink. Something covering my eyes.

'Hold on,' Melissa said. Someone peeled something away from my eyes; a thin sheet of gauze. Dry, but with a lingering scent of rubbing alcohol and something else. I got up, unsteadily.

'Your clothes were ruined,' Wayne said. 'I got you spare.' I accepted the bundle from him and put them on. A plain blue T shirt and jeans, white socks, white underpants, tight trainers.

'Cora?'

'Getting dressed in her bedroom,' Melissa replied.

'What was the gauze for?' I asked.

'It blocks the Signal,' Melissa replied.

'What does? What Signal?'

'As for “what,” it's surgical gauze soaked in -' and she said a word I did not recognise.

'It's a herb,' Wayne said. 'It grows in Tibet, smuggled out of the country here and there to distribute to people like us.'

'What does it do?'

'You grind it into a fine powder, and mix it with other ingredients. Then you apply it to the eyes.'

'And the Signal?'

'That Thing you saw on your computer screen,' Wayne said. 'The Thing that Lord Rossburgh calls from Outside to throw against his enemies.'

'Lord Rossburgh?'

'Jamis Rossburgh,' Wayne replied. 'Son of the Sixth Earl of Rossburgh. The bastard who tried to run you down in his Jag.'

  
  


I stared at the blue glass jar on a shelf in Melissa's cramped apartment kitchen. Cora sat stirring her tea in the tiny living room just across the corridor. Wayne and Melissa were with me.

'I've never been here,' I said.

'I have,' Wayne replied. 'A few times.'

'We got in touch with a supplier from Tibet who got us the herb,' Melissa said, taking down the jar and opening it. She proffered the wide necked jar for me to smell. I expected something rancid and musty.

'It smells almost ... it's dry,' I said, taking a deep sniff. 'May I?' Melissa nodded. I took out a piece of the herb. They were all of a kind; a long, curved brown-black piece about an inch and a half long, as thick as a pencil lead, curved into a weird twisted shape with a strange looking nodule at the base.

'Looks like a beetle with a fungus growing out of it,' I said.

'It  _is_ a beetle with a fungus growing out of it,' Melissa replied. I dropped it as if it were radioactive. she picked it up and shoved it back into the jar as I wiped my hands and face with my sleeve.

'What the Hell is it?'

'It's called a -' and Melissa said that word again, sounded like “Cordy Seps.”

'It's a fungus,' Wayne said, 'that grows on one particular type of beetle.'

'What the hell? Why?'

'To propagate,' Melissa replied. 'The cordy seps infiltrates its nervous system and  _controls_ -' I was going green at this point '- and  _controls_ its host. It alters the bug's behaviour to go climb up a mountain, and bury itself. Then it dies, and this thing sticks itself up out of the ground, where it is harvested by the Watchers.'

'Watchers? What Watchers?'

'Like us,' Wayne said, pointing to himself and Melissa. 'Watchers on The Threshold.'

'We're saving the world,' Melissa said, with eyes bright and starry.

'From monsters,' Wayne replied.

  
  


I did not speak until the train was at least two stops past Redfern, on the way home. Cora looked at me curiously.

I must have looked like an idiot, glowering at passers by, wondering  _Are you one, too?_

'What  _did_ happen back there?' she asked.

'What part? Us waking up in Wayne and Melissa's, or ... before, when we ... you know ...'

'Both,' Cora said, wrapping her arm about mine. 'I want to know why I can't remember much about what happened after we saw those pictures. There was something important about them, wasn't there?'

I nodded.

'I have to get to Frankie,' I said. 'She was exposed to the ... whatever that was. I hope she's okay.'

'But we'll talk there.'

I nodded as the ticket inspector appeared and began making her way along the aisle of the carriage. 'We can talk  _now_ .'

  
  


Frankie's flat was in Burton Mews, a cul de sac too narrow for the taxi to enter, not far from the University of London where she lectured.

'So tell me again,' Cora said as we boarded the lift and I pushed the top floor button. 'We got this ... Signal thing, and we went mad.'

'Long and the short of it,' I replied, not looking at her.

'Why? How did it do that?'

'I dunno,' I said. I glanced at her. 'I ... I'm sorry.'

'For what?'

'When we ... when we were mad like that, it was as if I could see what I was doing, but I ... I couldn't stop it.'

Cora placed her hand on my shoulder. 'Matt,' she said, 'we were  _both_ driven mad by it. I looked, too.'

'It doesn't ... I feel responsible ...'

'I know,' Cora replied. 'But that Thing ... they said it came from Outside, whatever that's supposed to mean. It's not from these parts.' She blushed. 'I don't know what I'm saying.'

'Nor me,' I replied. 'It all sounds completely cracked to me.' The lift lurched, the doors squealing open. We entered the hall.

'Monsters and signals and fungi and men from Tibet,' I said, as we made our way towards the room at the end. 'I'm an ex-cop who just likes to snoop. Give me a divorce case, or a search for an heir. Normal stuff. I. Do. Normal. Stuff. Not this ...'

The door opened. Frankie. She was smiling. She stepped out into the corridor.

Behind her, two Oriental gentlemen in expensive designer business suits followed her into the corridor.

'this ...'

'Madness?' Cora said.

  
  


I really, really needed a drink right now. I got coffee. Strong, black, two sugars. Frankie even knew to make it from my special blend of Kenyan – the beans that got me through a long career in the Met.

'Thanks for coming,' Frankie said, as Cora and I sat facing her and the two Oriental gentlemen who, it turned out, were her contacts – the suppliers of that beetle-eating fungus stuff.

I should have known. Something Wayne had said ...

'I sent word to Wayne and Melissa,' Frankie added. 'They were concerned that you'd get here safely. You can't tell. Cultists everywhere these days.'

Cora and I frowned. 'Cultists?'

Frankie nodded. 'Led by that monster Jamis.' She sipped her coffee. 'Can I start from the beginning?'

'You can tell me how you got into this.'

'Yeah, but this story goes back a bit,' Frankie said. 'A very long way.'

From what I gathered from Frankie's explanation, it began with Marconi back in 1894. When Marconi's contemporary Heinrich Hertz died, research material became available suggesting that one could receive radio waves with the right equipment. Marconi took that to mean that one could communicate through radio. But one of Hertz' papers, unpublished, suggested something else.

A stone had fallen to Earth in 1862, near a little town called Wallasey. The stone had exhibited unusual piezoelectric properties, and it passed from laboratory to laboratory over the years, baffling scientists left and right until it came to Hertz' laboratory. It was there that Heinrich Hertz had first discovered that the stone could, in fact, pick up The Signal.

Hertz had been only 36 when he'd died. The infection had set in, causing migraines at first. Operations had followed, to no avail. The coroner's report was that he'd died of Wegener's granulomatosis; a disease which caused massive organ damage to his lungs, kidneys and other organs.

The stone passed to Marconi, whose gift to the world – radio communications – would change everything. In 1897, Marconi gave two lectures to the Royal Institution. The one that was recorded in the annals was titled “Signalling Through Space Without Wires.” The unrecorded one, two days, later, concerned the strange sgnals Marconi had been receiving through the equipment he'd set up centered around the mysterious stone, acting as the crystal in a cat's whisker.

Marconi died in 1937, having at one point asked “Have I done the world good, or have I added a menace?” And that stone, and Signal, moved on.

In time, the receiver and the stone fell into the hands of the fifth Earl of Rossburgh, a keen radio enthusiast. He made some improvements to the system, modernising it with more sophisticated electronics: and as a result, he was the first human to isolate Signal.

'It nearly broke him,' Frankie said. 'His family records indicate an extended convalescence, but he'd been exposed to it for too long. They say he died, raving. His son, Jamis, took over the running of the television company his father had founded – he was its last CEO before the company went under. Every broadcaster now just streams video to the internet these days; nobody bothers with TV any more.

'But that is not the end of it, is it?' she added, looking at the Tibetans.

'This is not the only stone to fall to Earth,' one of the Tibetan gentlemen said, his voice accented but clearly educated. 'Another stone fell in the East, where Eastern researchers learned of the danger.'

'We believe that Signal comes from some part of the universe,' said the second gentleman. 'Or it could be part of the cosmic background noise that the astronomers carefully filter out of any public transmissions to ensure their safety. We don't know.'

'And we don't care to know, either,' Frankie said. 'We only know what it does.'

'What is it?'

'It's a kind of a Cordyceps,' Frankie said. 'Only, it infects thoughts inside the head.'

'A Cordyceps thought,' the first Tibetan said.

'It infects the thoughts in the human mind,' said the second gentleman. 'Warps your behaviour. Turns you ...  _primitive_ .' He looked at the other gentleman, who nodded.

'And what does the ... Cordyceps beetle fungus do?'

'It blocks the Signal somehow,' the first Tibetan said. 'Tibetans have been harvesting the fungus for years, but when we discovered its properties we took to cultivating it.'

I thought shudderingly of fungus farms, Tibetans deliberately infecting beetles with fungi ...

'So what's the deal with Jamis, then?' I asked.

Cora jumped in. 'And does he have Caroline?'

'Far as I can tell,' Frankie said, looking at Cora, 'yes.'

Frankie showed us a video on her laptop. I saw a leafy, tree-lined American neighbourhood, and a naked woman lying face down on the road outside some guy's house. The woman got up, screaming incoherently, and chased after a passing car which accelerated sharply to avoid her.

'She's on Signal,' Frankie said, as the video clip ended.

I watched Cora shudder and looked back at Frankie. My face must have been glowing, because she nodded, turning to the Tibetans.

'We've all been on Signal,' Frankie said.

'It's terrifying,' the first Tibetan, called Yeshe, said. 'Signal is addictive. It's like a drug. And it hooks you with the first hit, unless ...' He looked to his right. A full blue jar of Cordyceps lay unopened on a table at the far side of the room.

'There's a caseload of them in the kitchen,' Frankie replied.

'You're prepared,' I said.

'There are others,' Frankie replied. 'All over the place. Watching on the threshold for things like the Signal.' She looked at her laptop. 'I keep in touch with them regularly.'

'Oh,' I said. 'My gear. It got burned out.'

'I know,' Frankie said. 'My unprotected data got wiped out, too, though everything was backed up so I just formatted everything and rebuilt. But I lost those photos.'

I smiled. 'I have my own backups,' I said, taking off my watch and fishing out my pen drive.

'A backup of the backup,' Frankie said, accepting them both. 'Nice touch.'

A phone rang. Yeshe picked it up, and listened. A moment later, he leaned towards Frankie. 'No sign of him at the mansion,' he said. 'Looks like he's on the move.'

'This is it,' Frankie said, quietly. 'He's been up to something, and this feels like it. We may have forced his hand. He could be making his move too soon, in which case ...'

'We could have him,' Yeshe replied.

I felt someone's hand on my arm. Cora. She was looking at me.

'Matt,' she said, 'Caroline.' I nodded, and looked at Frankie.

'She's definitely alive,' Cora said to Frankie. 'I can feel it. I have to find her and get her away from that ... that  _monster_ .'

Frankie looked at me, then at Cora. 'Does that mean ... you're in on this?'

Cora and I glanced at one another. 'Let's get in there,' I said. 'For Caroline, and also to stop Jamis from doing whatever it is he's doing.'

  
  


Frankie prepared the Cordyceps for consumption. She used an old fashioned mortar and pestle made of some sort of brown soapstone. She crushed the Cordyceps into a dry, powdery, flaky pulp.

'You take it like this?' I asked.

'No,' Frankie replied. 'I add other ingredients.'

'Are there any side effects?' Cora asked.

'Oh, very few,' Yeshe said.

'You'll either hallucinate that you're growing a very long white beard, or you'll dream about trying to bury your head in a mountain with a flagpole sticking out of your forehead,' said the other Tibetan, called Tashi.

'I don't know whether to believe you or not,' I said.

In time, the Cordyceps was ready. It looked like a lump of grey clay, flecked with black. I popped it in my mouth. It felt like eating dirt, a scratchy sensation down my throat. I watched Cora swallow hers, unfeigned disgust on her face.

'The ingredient in the Cordyceps blocks the Signal's progress along your nervous system,' Frankie replied. 'You'll feel it, but it won't hit you like it did.'

Cora shuddered and looked at me.

'What happened to you?' I asked of Frankie and the Tibetans. 'How did you get involved with Signal?'

'I caught it by accident,' Frankie said. 'I'd been following up leads on Caroline. Those leads were bringing me to Jamis. I tracked down someone who'd gone mad from watching some sort of video footage of a meeting of Jamis' friends.'

'He's running a Signal cult,' Tashi said. 'He uses Signal on people, like a drug dealer. We came here following up the whereabouts of the Western stone, and it led to this man.'

Yeshe touched Frankie's shoulder. 'I saw Frankie's traces online, and tracked her down. Lucky I did. She'd caught the tiniest glimpse of Signal, and she was ... well.'

'Remember that little “breakdown” I'd had, a while back, when you thought I'd gone to rehab for cocaine abuse?'

I nodded. 'Signal?'

'She was a mess,' Yeshe said. 'We cleaned her up, straightened her out, replaced her machinery and restored her to health. She'd started smashing up her little toys when we'd found her.'

'It wasn't a direct exposure,' Tashi said. 'Second hand exposure over a video clip. But it was enough.'

'And you two?'

'The two of us,' Yeshe said, 'were drawn into the cult by our own parents, Signal addicts.”

'They left us in a room,' Tashi said, 'and infected us with Signal.' I saw the looks in their faces, and decided to quietly drop the subject.

'We've known about Signal for years,' Tashi said.

'I pulled a lot of strings to get an Oxford scholarship,' Yeshe said, 'specifically to allow me to come here so I could track down the Western stone.'

'And your parents?'

Incredible sorrow washed over the men's faces. 'Lost,' Yeshe said. 'Even before the Chinese troops raided the place, and put a bullet through everybody's heads that they could find … they were lost to us. Had been for some time.'

'The first few exposures are more or less easily shaken,' Frankie said. 'But the effect leaves a residual signal. And it's cumulative. Without the Cordyceps resetting your brain, sooner or later Signal gathers enough strength to just flare up in your head. Could be a week, a few months, but at some point your mind is just gone, and Signal takes over, permanently.'

'And you go like that ... that crazy woman,' I said, pointing to Frankie's laptop.

'Yes.'

The laptop chimed. Frankie looked at it a second, and tapped some keys. 'I got a hit,' she said. 'His car. Traffic cam caught it. He's on the move.'

'Where?'

Frankie pulled out a sheet of paper and showed it to me. 'Where else?'

His father had owned a television company ...

  
  


The night sky overhead was the usual familiar grimy, dark London orange, and a light rain was falling over the city, the little drops visible as streaks of yellow light underneath the street lamps. We stood across the street from our destination.

'I thought they'd closed this place down years ago,' I said. The old concrete building loomed over us, looking rather the worse for wear. I must admit, at that point we all felt somewhat the worse for wear. Or maybe it was the Cordyceps inoculants.

'Feel like crap,' Cora said, her hand on her forehead.

'It's this place,' Frankie said. 'Stone's nearby. It's inside. Signal calls to Signal. We have to be careful.'

Tashi was on his mobile, checking out something. He turned his phone off. 'Just called up the plans,' he said. 'I think they forgot one service entrance. We could get in through there.'

'Where?'

'Follow me.'

It wasn't too hard to spot the service entrance: it had been boarded up, but the board had long been worked loose and lay across the alley, in pieces.

'Did they come in here?' Cora asked.

'No,' Yeshe replied. 'This entrance hasn't seen traffic in months.' He looked into the darkened chamber beyond. 'The cultists come in a different way.'

At the mouth of the alley, a car screeched to a halt blocking the entrance. Two people emerged from the car and came down the alley. Melissa and Wayne, out of uniform. Wayne was carrying a holdall over his shoulder.

'We just got here,' Melissa said. 'Frankie sent us the email.'

'What are you carrying?' Wayne asked.

'Er, nothing. Why?'

Wayne and Melissa looked at one another and smiled.

'Good job we brought some tools,' she said. I watched Wayne as he put the bag down on the floor, and unzipped it. I could already tell what he had inside the bag.

Pistols.

Matt black, ugly-looking autoloaders. Glock-19s, in holsters.

'Tool up,' Wayne said, passing the holstered guns over to the Tibetans, who put them on.

'Hold up,' I said. 'What the hell do you two think that you are doing, arming civilians?'

'We both have permits and training,' Yeshe said.

'I have a license to carry,' Frankie said, accepting her own. 'And a permit ... somewhere.' She looked at me. 'I know you have all the correct paperwork, Matt. You applied for it, got the tests and the firearms training certificate. Well, so did I.'

'But you're only an auxiliary,' I said.

'Not for this,' Frankie said. 'Let's just say that I have some interesting friends in some very high places.'

Cora hesitated as Melissa proffered her a gun.'I ... I never handled one of these,' she said.

'Here,' Melissa said, stepping forward, unholstering the weapon and putting the gun in her hand. 'Rule one. Never point the thing at someone you don't intend to shoot. Rule two, always assume the thing is always fully loaded, one round in the chamber and the safety off.'

I watched Cora accept the gun with a trembling hand, letting Frankie reholster it and strap it to her shoulder. I shook my head. 'We're going to have words after this, you two,' I said, even as I accepted my own Glock from Wayne.

Quick check; one already in the chamber. No need to cock it: it'd only discharge an unspent round. Safety on, check. I looked at the team.

'Ready?' Curt nods. Nervous nod from Cora.

'Hang on,' Yeshe said. 'Light. We're going to need lights.'

'Here,' Wayne replied, reaching into the holdall. The flashlights were compact little things attached to webbing straps. 'Wear them on your forehead.' He strapped his on and turned it on. The LEDs shone in a tight beam, shining where he turned his head.

'That's good,' I replied, accepting another one. Two minutes later we all wore little flashlights on our heads.

'I take point,' I said. 'Cora; Yeshe; you're next. Draw only when absolutely necessary. Then Tashi and Wayne, and finally you two.' I looked at Frankie and Melissa.

'Why are we two at the back?'

'Because if we guys and Cora fall,' I replied, 'I want to know that I've still got the two people in reserve that I know will cause the maximum amount of damage before they go.'

The two women looked at one another and grinned.

'C'mon,' I said. 'Let's go.'

We filed into the building in formation, me taking point, Glocks in both hands, aimed down at the floor.

'Watch the floors,' I whispered. 'Watch for missing sections.'

'Hope they haven't taken down any stairs,' Frankie whispered.

'We must go ahead to the end of this corridor, and turn left,' Tashi said,

'Got you,' I replied.

One darkened corridor led to another, and another, and another. We reached one set of steps going up, and there on the first floor we came across our first stretch of missing floor.

'Three floors straight down,' Frankie whispered. 'Just that little bit of a ledge on the left.'

'Saw some planks lying around back there,' I replied. 'Bring up a couple of the long ones.'

Frankie and Melissa went back for a long plank, while the Tibetans and I assessed the length of the gap. Eventually, the wood beam came up, and I extended it across the gap.

'Comfortable,' I said. 'Looks secure. We go across one at a time,' I whispered. 'I go first. If it breaks, fetch another one and carry on without me, all right?' Curt nods from the others.

The wood creaked under my weight, but it held. As soon as I was clear across the other side, I signalled for the others to come across, starting with Cora, then Yeshe, Tashi, Wayne, Frankie and finally Melissa.

'Let's go,' I said.

We met with no further obstacles. As we continued, I heard something in the darkness just up ahead. I signalled for the others to stop. I went on ahead alone. Further reconnoitering confirmed human voices nearby. I returned to the group.

'Almost there,' I said. 'What's up ahead?'

'Studio One,' Tashi replied, consulting the plans. 'Shouldn't be anything in there now.'

Light spilled out from the heavy door of Studio One. Somebody had managed to turn on the electricity inside the room.

We turned off our flashlights and approached the door. I peered round the doorjamb.

I could see a dozen people, sitting on makeshift benches facing the floor. Two seats on the floor; a table; a laptop, cabling sticking out of it leading off somewhere. Jamis Rossburgh behind the table, dressed in some sort of absurd green silk robe, talking to the audience.

Behind the laptop, head and face only half visible ...

I heard a gasp from behind me. Cora was peering over my shoulder. She'd just seen the blonde hair.

'It's her, isn't it?' she whispered.

'Let's try and scope out the situation first,' I whispered back to her. 'We've got to make sure that there's ...'

Movement behind me. I felt cold metal pressed against the small of my back.

'Nobody ... else ... there ...,' I finished.

  
  


We were armed with pistols. The cultists were armed with shotguns. They disarmed us and led us into Studio One, hands on the backs of our heads, fingers laced. Muzzles planted in the small of our backs, we were lined up before Jamis.

'Do you know what all this equipment is for?' Jamis asked, looking at the cultists on the benches. 'Took a lot of string pulling to get the transmitters and equipment out back in, power set up, a server. You see, Signal wants to meet everybody.'

He smiled. 'Imagine it going viral on YouTube. More than six billion people out there, picking up Signal on their computers, smartphones ... on live streaming video.' He smiled. 'All those Signal addicts, waiting for me to lead them. Like a Messiah.'

'You're beyond nuts,' Frankie said.

'Who are you?' Jamis said, as if suddenly noticing our presence. Nobody spoke. 'Make them kneel.'

Someone kicked the back of my knees. The concrete slammed hard against my calves. I winced, but did not say a word. Nor did the others. Cora stared daggers at Jamis.

'Well, well, well,' said a familiar voice. Look who it is.  _Mister_ Crooner.'

'Toad,' I said. 'When did you get mixed up with this guy?'

'That's “Lord” guy to you, mate,' Bru said, from somewhere off to Toad's right.

'I know  _you_ ,' Jamis said, looking at Cora. He glanced at Toad. 'Do  _you_ know these people?'

'This one, I know,' Toad said. 'We were in the Job together.'

'He's a  _cop_ ?'

'Ex-cop,' Toad gloated.

'You were my subordinate,' I replied. 'Though I do remember your many disciplinaries for insubordination well enough.'

'You just  _shut up -_ ' Toad snarled. I sensed movement -

'Ah!' Jamis barked. Everybody froze.

'You  _don't! Pistol whip! The prisoners!_ ' Jamis barked. He gestured. Footsteps, a thump, a groan. Metal clattering.

'Leave him!' Jamis barked. I risked a glance, saw Bru taking a step towards his fallen friend. I looked back at the table, where I could see the top of the girl's head, illuminated by the light from the laptop screen. Her eyes seemed intent on the screen. I couldn't see her face below her eyes. Nor could I see her hands.

'What are you doing?' Cora asked.

Jamis smiled. 'When Daddy showed me the stone,' he said, 'I immediately knew what I wanted. More than anything, I wanted the power that the stone could get me. I knew what it could do ... and I knew just how it could help me achieve my aim.'

He smiled. 'I wanted someone to test the stone on,' he added. 'Someone that Signal could work through. A medium.' He stepped around the table and stepped behind the girl. 'I am sorry, Mrs Dunn, but your daughter was the perfect medium. Just the thing the stone needed.'

'Needed?' I asked. 'What do you mean, needed?'

'It's aware, somehow,' Jamis replied. 'Not alive, not the way we think of alive, but ... Signal is aware. It wants our lives.' He reached for the laptop.

'It wants our bodies as hosts,' he said, pulling the laptop away. Cora screamed. A moment later, I saw why.

My mind first thought that Caroline had a weird, silvery stage beard on her chin. Then my mind caught up with my eyes, and a rush of nausea lurched from the pit of my stomach.

That “silver hair” was growing out of Caroline's mouth and nose, extending hungry, fine tendrils down towards the laptop – or rather, the stone sitting on the laptop.

It looked like an irregular, roughly rectangular block, its edges smooth as if partly melted. Odd colours played across and within it like an oil slick on a puddle of water. Inside the stone, barely visible ... I winced as I felt the now familiar pull of Signal, as it attempted to reach into my head – only to be blocked by the influence of the Cordyceps preparation in my system.

Everything happened at once.

I heard moans and cries from the cultists. They had seen the stone. They were being exposed to Signal. They were losing their faculties as Signal began destroying their minds.

Cora got to her feet. From my left, Frankie seemed to fall off to one side. The others began to move. The Tibetans blocked Cora's path. She was screaming.

I heard a thump behind me. Bru had decked the cultist behind me.

'Grab it!' Bru hissed. I turned, saw a Glock on the floor at my feet. Something clicked as I picked it up. 'You're ...' I said. Bru nodded.

'I had to work my way into the cult,' Bru said. 'Only way to do that was to suck up to  _this_ .' He grimaced. 'I fed the Tibetans the floor plans to this place.'

'Please,' said Jamis. 'Don't move.' I looked. He had moved just behind Caroline. He had a gun, pointed at us. Sig Sauer. I saw Cora advance towards Caroline, unheeding.

'Wait!' Jamis cried out, swivelling the gun at Cora. But Cora had stopped. It took a moment before Jamis realised that she hadn't stopped taking her eyes off Caroline – and that she hadn't even noticed him at all.

Too late, Jamis realised that it was not Cora who was in peril.

Noticing him for the first time, the Signal thing turned around. Tendrils lashed out, enveloping Jamis' face. Jamis did not even have time to scream before his head was completely engulfed.

Cora screamed. I think we all did.

Seconds later, the tendrils released Jamis' head - minus flesh. An eyeless, bloody skull grinned at us. The body fell away.

In the seconds since it engulfed Jamis, the tendrils had emerged from the rest of the girl's now ruined face. Nothing remained of the front of her head but tendrils. Tiny glints of silver thread showed where her arms were fusing to the body.

The thing extended its tendrils down towards the stone, wrapping tenderly about the obscene mineral, picking it up. Pushing the block into the centre of its face, it turned towards a terrified, immobile Cora. The transformation almost complete, the stone began to fuse into the body of tendrils to form a living embodiment of Signal.

A few lazy fronds began to extend in Cora's direction. It was hungry again.

A gun barked, once. A small hole appeared in the side of the obscene Signal creature's face. I looked down, saw the gun smoking in my hand.  _It just went off, Yer Honour,_ was all I could think of.

The gun barked again and again, holes appearing in the girl's ruined body. From each hole tufts of silver tendrils emerged.

The thing turned that obscene block of stone right at me.

For a moment, I felt Signal directly.

I could see and feel and  _smell_ that Presence, hidden in the cosmic background noise. Aware, but not alive as I know life. Hungering forever. Obscene piping singing an endless song of  _Needneedneedneedneedneedneedneednee-_

The last round discharged, emptying the Glock. It struck the stone squarely, shattering it into powder. The obscenity of fronds shook, jolted, spun around and crumpled to the ground.

I heard cloth tearing all around. All the cultists exposed to Signal without protection now began convulsing and writhing, tendrils emerging from faces and bodies.

Careful to avoid the seething masses of tendrils, the Tibetans, Wayne, Melissa, Frankie, Bru and I quickly exited, the Tibetans supporting a weeping Cora between them. The last man out, I looked back once. I had to. I had to see.

Tendrils were emerging from every body left behind inside. Poor Caroline; the cultists. Toad. Jamis' corpse. In a minute, nothing remained but fluffy clumps of waving tendrils.

Even as the tendrils grew they were dying, turning brittle, making delicate shattering sounds as they collapsed. Without the conduit stone, there was no more Signal to sustain them.

In moments, nothing remained but piles of fine dust.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally intended for the "Future Lovecraft" competition in 2011, this entry may not have won the contest but it is still a story in the spirit of HPL.
> 
> The year 2024, to Lovecraft, really was the impossible far future - and for him, it always would be unattainable, so even if you read this in the year 2027 or even long after I, the author, have ceased to exist, it will still, to Lovecraft,have been "the future."
> 
> Even if it's your past.


End file.
